Portfolio

All I see is the page / It’s all that matters but I’m not allowed to look at it, / I must suspend disbelief.

Your touch is / clear, transparent, mine / I know one of us will be wise / but maybe, no / not maybe, no such thing, sadly / we’re stubborn, enriched / in delectable chaos / and pity 

From this simple reconnection to Korean culture, I caught a glimpse of what could’ve been if I hadn’t run away.

If only you would stop / Just for a minute, / To try and get a glimpse / Of something beyond yourselves 

Empty classrooms / Green trees at exactly noon / Music we all heard that one time / All of the above combined / Into the perfect moment.

But of course, such fantasies will only occur in dreams or simulations like video games. After all, I live in a world where people grow up to become employees, not adventurers.

We’re still trying to understand the extent of the shift. Many argue they’re just the same as us. I don’t like calling it a “zombie outbreak.”

I have a garden of about 12 flowers. A few of them come and go with the seasons, and the rest bloom yearlong. 

How is it that we trust the abyss of postage to cradle our heaviest words in paper-thin packaging?

I went back to visit you. I only observed you from the outside, but you seemed different. The years must have separated us from each other. Even though you were no longer ours, there were still some of our emblems marked on you, some indications that you had been ours at some point in your existence.